Heroes Never Die
by xSnap.Crackle.Popx
Summary: Soda comes home from Vietnam, but something isn't the same.


Hey guys. I'm Honeydew and this is my first story in the Outsiders section. I've written a few in 'Teen Titans' but I grew out of them, and needed something else to write about. I read the Outsiders about two years ago in seventh grade, and remember it being my favorite book that we read all through eighth grade. Now I read the book again and watched the new edition of the movie and was completely devastated that Soda goes to Vietnam and dies so I decided to write about that, but add my own little twist on it.

Excuse the cheesiness in this story. I realize how unrealistic the ending is. I'm just writing something to get myself known around this part of I'm working on another, longer, story that I promise won't be as cheesy.

-HoneyD

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**Pony's P.O.V.**

I chew on my gum hard, wishing the plane would land already. I felt Darry's hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently ever now and then, but that was no comfort. I felt trapped, and if you wanted to know the truth, I was getting kind of Closter phobic. There was more then a hundred people crammed into the small airport, everyone waiting for the precious news if their loved one would walk off of the plane alive, or if they'd never be seen again. I hoped to God Sodapop and Steve would both be alright. I watched the huge plane land on the ground and slowly roll up to the drop off gate. Men in orange ran around frantically on the ground below, preparing for the men and women to exit the plane. I stared at the door, willing it to open, and it did. The first soldier came out and I heard a little boy in the back yell 'Daddy' and run toward the man. I watched the two embrace, and the man swung the little boy around as his wife came up and planted a kiss on his lips.

Soda had left for the war three years ago, in 1968. The war was still going on now, but it wasn't as bad so the soldiers that had been there from the start got to leave early. Soda would be turning 21 in just two weeks. I'd been planning his birthday party.

Another soldier came off of the plane, and now I noticed that over 150 other men now stood hugging their families, crying, or doing something along those lines. I watched the young man that stepped off the plane this time. His eyes searched the room and locked on us. My heart beat faster as I stood up and I began walking toward the man, but it wasn't Soda. It was Steve.

"Where's Soda?" I immediately asked, feeling slightly bad that I wasn't more excited to see him.

Steve only looked at the ground and shook his head. I studied his face, and saw unshed tears fill his eyes; he refused to meet my gaze.

"Ponboy, I tried. I was with him, we was standin' around when these guys started firein' at us. Soda..." Steve's voice caught in his throat and he coughed huskily, "Soda didn't know what hit him. He hit the ground before he even felt pain, Pony. I'm so sorry, I tried to save him."

I wasn't sure what to say. I wished widely that Steve would start laughing and Soda would walk off of the plane. I wanted him to tell me this was all a joke, a horribly cruel joke that he thought would be funny to play on me. But he didn't. Tears slowly made there way down his cheeks, and landed onto the ground. Darry walked up behind me and ruffled my hair softly, "we knew this was a possibility."

I turned around quickly and glared at the man standing before me, "how can you say that? How the hell can you say that? Sodapop's dead!"

"I know baby," Darry's eyes flashed sadness and he held his arms open to me, which I walked into and buried my head in his chest.

"How can he be dead, Dar? How can he be dead."

"I don't know." Darry rested his chin on my head, and then Steve began to talk again.

"The plane with his body on it's landing next. There's going to be a huge funeral service for all the men who died."

I felt Darry nod, "c'mon, Pony. Let's get home. There's nothing we can do here."

I didn't feel like walking so I wrapped my arms around his neck and aloud him to lift me off the ground. I couldn't seem to stop crying. When we got hope Darry laid me in bed, then went back to the kitchen to talk to Steve. I didn't know if he expected me to sleep here, but I couldn't. This was the bed I had shared with Soda all these years. It was going to be different without him, knowing he was never coming back now. I turned over and hid my face in my pillow and cried for a long time.

* * *

I sat in the funeral home quietly, refusing to look at, or talk to anybody. I hadn't looked at Soda yet, and I wasn't planning to until I was the only one there.

The hours felt like days, and by the time everybody was gone I had fallen asleep laying across the seats that were set up. I felt Darry shaking me and I turned over.

"Soda," I mumbled softly.

"No, honey, it's not Soda. It's Darry. Wake up, we have to get home."

I opened my eyes and looked up at Darry. He looked worn out. His eyes were red and blood shot, and I could have swore he'd aged ten years over the past three days.

I nodded sitting up, "okay, can you leave us alone for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, I'll be in the car."

Once Darry left I walked tentatively toward the coffin where my older brother lay. I peeked my head over the side, expect the worst, but he didn't look any different. He was still the Sodapop I'd always known, except he was dead. I looked into his eyes that were left open, and had to grin despite the bleakness of the situation. They were still laughing and joyful.

"Hey Sodapop," I whispered dropping to my knees next to the coffin, "I don't really know what to say to a dead guy."

"What was the war like? I bet it was bad. Steve told us what happened; he's takin' this pretty hard. We all are."

I ran my hand threw my hair and sighed, "We met this new girl, her names Cameron. You'd like her. It's funny how we met her actually, Two-Bit was being his normal perverted self and lifted up her skirt. Apparently she thought it was pretty funny and started hanging out with him. Wanna know the best part? She's a soc, and a nice one."

I put my head in my hands and let out a shaky breath, unsure of what else to say. Before I could stop myself I felt a burning in the back of my eyes and tears began to seep out.

"Listen, Soda. I know you're dead and all, but, I really need you back here." I dropped my head onto his chest and sobbed, "Me and Darry are gettin' along fine, you'd love it, but I can't sleep anymore, Soda. I'm really worryin' him, he's scared I'm gunna get sick, but it's just different without you. I'm still having those nightmares, except now, I think you're in them too. I don't know, I still can't remember them very well. I just..." I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself down, "miss you a lot, you dig?"

I was quiet after that, for lack of anything else to say. I lay my head on his chest over his heart and listened, hoping I'd here the comforting sound of a beat, but I heard nothing. I looked at the clock on the wall; 11:38. I stood up, "I've got to go now. Darry's waiting for me in the car."

I was about to walk out the door when something made me stop. A soft whisper echoed through the dark room.

"Ponyboy...I'm sorry."

I turned around quickly and looked around, almost afraid. If you've never heard whispers in a funeral home before, you wouldn't know what I was going through.

"So sorry..." it came again.

I took a step toward Soda's coffin and looked down at him once more. He didn't look any different then he had when I left. I was about to turn around and leave again when I saw something that nearly made my heart stop. Soda's hands which was neatly crossed across his chest were now moved. One was next to his body, and the other one was held to a place on his side.

"It hurts, Pon."

My eyes widened as I saw his lips move and I blindly ran out of the funeral home and pounded on the car window, "Darry! Darry, he's alive!"

Darry looked at me in confusion, but then his confusion turned to sympathy and I thought with a sinking feeling he wasn't going to believe me. "Baby, I know this is all very hard to deal with, but pretending..."

"I'm not pretending!" I yelled, "please, he's alive, Darry, come look." I was pleading so desperately with him that he couldn't help but get out of the car.

I drug him into the room and pointed at Soda, "see?"

Darry looked at me disbelievingly, "nothing's changed."

"Listen," I whispered quietly.

Darry let out a long breath and was silent.

"Darry?" Soda moaned quietly, and this time his head turned to the side and I saw his eyes dart back and forth under his eyelids.

I looked to Darry and saw mouth open in shock.

He kneeled down next to Soda and grabbed his hand, "yeah, it's me."

"Am I dead?" I had to lean closer to hear what Soda was saying, his voice was really weak.

"No, you're not dead," Darry's eyes filled with tears, "we thought you were for awhile, but you're not."

"You did?" Soda chuckled softly, "did you think a bullet could get me down?"

I kneeled next to him this time and put my hand on his face, "Darry, he's burning up."

The events that took place in the next hour are all hazy to me now. I remember Darry running to a phone and calling an ambulance. I remember being in the hospital and waiting for hours as the doctors performed operations on Soda. And I remember their explanation of how they thought he died. Apparently the medical equipment in Vietnam isn't hardly as good as ours is.

In the weeks that passed there's been three more cases similar to Soda's. Soda's is still weak, and recovering slowly, but the doctors tell us he'll do just fine.

_'I'm glad'_, I thought as I curled up under my brother's arm, which I thought I'd never do again. I wasn't sure what I would do if Soda hadn't woken up. I might have gone on living, but that wasn't likely. Everybody has heroes in life. Johnny was Dally's hero, although he'd never admit it, and when Johnny died, Dallas couldn't take it. I think that's what would have happened to me if I lost my brother. Soda is my hero, and he always would be. I admired his urge to live, his hopefulness is completely hopeless situations, and as I thought of that I had to laugh. It was foolish of me to think my brother was dead. There was a quote I heard a long time ago, that came back to me suddenly,

_'Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.'_

I guess anybody could decipher it as they wished, but for me, I felt it described Soda. He had crossed the boundary of death, but he was my light in the dark. He knew without him I'd be lost, so he crossed back over into life to shed a small about of life into my dark world.

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Once again I apologize for the sappy story. The quote is from Frankenstein.

I except reviews and flames, I see them both as compliments, so please, do one or the other if you've read this.

HoneyDew


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